


God Always Laughs At Your Plans

by Angelise (angelise7)



Series: Best Buds [16]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Best Friends, Friendship/Love, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things don't always work out as planned</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Always Laughs At Your Plans

**Author's Note:**

> November 2007 -- Blaine is 18 years old. Trent is 17.

Blaine wiped the sweat from his face with a hand towel pulled from the stack inside his closet. He’d just gotten back from running his daily five miles and was in the process of stripping off his sweaty clothes when his laptop warned him of a Skype request. Forgoing the much needed shower, he grabbed the bath towel he’d thrown on the bed earlier and slung it around his shoulders before taking a seat at his desk. He grinned at the icon pic on the screen. 

Trent.

He lightly touched the icon showcasing a shirtless, barefoot Trent straddling the tree limb where their initials were carved. Angel, their family’s budding photographer, had taken the actual picture, and the 5 x 7 framed version sat on the shelf above his desk next to the picture of his entire family.

His laptop dinged again and he acknowledged the request.

“Hey, Budman, thought I’d . . . oh hell no! Tell me you’re not all hot and sweaty and straight from the gym or something.”

He took a moment to towel most of the sweat from his hair before answering. “Yeah, just got back from running. You caught me as I was heading for a shower.”

The sound of strangled lust was clearly heard coming from the speakers, and he quickly scrambled to plug in his earbuds. His nosey roommate was blessedly asleep in bed but he didn’t want to take any chances. Trent tended to be loud and explicit during their conversations and the less Kyle heard the better.

Repositioning the screen so that only he could see it, he took a moment to enjoy the sight of Trent fumbling to unzip his jeans. Within seconds, his boyfriend was jacking off in plain sight of the computer’s webcam, and it was all he could do to keep from doing the same thing. Biting his lips, he pressed one hand against his crotch and rode out the surge of volcanic heat threatening to shove him over the edge. 

He closed his eyes and listened to his boyfriend yell his head off as he climaxed. The thought of Trent doing this alone clenched at his heart, and the lust he’d been suffering with mere seconds earlier transformed into the pain of utter lonesomeness. 

God, he missed Trent.

“Jesus, Blaine, seeing you like that, all sweaty -- And fuck, you know how much I love to lick that chest of yours when it’s all -- Damn, I just had to – Sorry, didn’t mean to leave you high and dry. You okay? Need me to talk you – Jesus, I can’t breathe. Haven’t come like that in – oh hell, give me a sec, okay?” 

It took longer than a second for Trent to recover, and Blaine used that time to get his emotions under control.

Trent’s face filled the screen again, and it wasn’t long before his boyfriend’s discerning gaze picked up on his distress. “Hey, you don’t look so good. What’s wrong?”

He used the excuse of once again wiping the sweat from his face in order to erase the moisture collecting in his eyes. 

“I’m good. Watching you get off, well, you know what that does to me.”

A knowing grin broke out on Trent’s face as he settled back down on his bed amongst the numerous pillows piled on it. “Yeah, you like that don’t’cha? Watching me.”

Blaine felt himself blush. It was true. He thoroughly enjoyed those moments during their webcam dates when Trent would _take care of business_. In fact, the anal beads Trent had bought himself had seen quite a bit of action during the last few months.

“Who wouldn’t?” He pointed at the screen, thus pointing at Trent’s naked body. “You’re looking good, babe. Still working out with my dad?”

Trent rolled over on his stomach and tucked a pillow under his chest. “Yeah, I go over there at least three times a week. Dan just bought a new weight training set for your dad. It’s awesome!” He kissed the muscles in each of his upper arms. “These puppies are getting the workout of their lives.”

Blaine looked off to the side so that his boyfriend wouldn’t see the miserable expression he knew was on his face. Here was one more thing he was missing. Trent spending time with his dad. God, he hated being away from home.

Speaking of home . . . 

He turned to face the laptop and asked, “Hey, what’s the word on that family thing you got going on at Thanksgiving?”

Thanksgiving would be the first opportunity for him to travel home in nearly three months. Classes, training, his job had basically negated any weekend trips since Labor Day. To say he was missing his family and Trent was the understatement of the year.

Trent buried his face in his hands and groaned. Peeking through his fingers, he pleaded, “Don’t be mad at me, Budman, but I gotta go. There’s no way I can get out of it, not with Granny being as sick as she is. Like Dad says, this might be the last time we see her and I’d feel like shit if I didn’t go and she died.” Trent lowered his hands to the chain and locket he permanently wore around his neck. He examined the picture inside the locket. “Me and Mom used to go visit Granny all the time when I was little. Those are some real good memories, Blaine. I gotta go. I’m sorry.”

Blaine took a deep breath to calm the crushing disappointment stirring to life inside of him. He understood, he really did. Trent had family obligations. It didn’t matter that they would only have about 24 hours together before his boyfriend had to go out of town to visit his ailing grandmother. One day together until Christmas. Baseball practice would start immediately after the Thanksgiving holiday and extend straight through to Christmas. There would be no going home for semester break. He and his teammates would be staying on campus in order to practice for the upcoming season. He’d have two weeks off for Christmas and New Year’s but hell, that was two months away. 

TWO WHOLE MONTHS!

“Blaine, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He glanced up at the screen and discovered Trent was now sitting on the edge of the bed, hugging the daylights out of the pillow he’d been resting on earlier. The look of anguish on his boyfriend’s face nearly killed him.

“It’s okay, Trent. I understand. I don’t like it,” he truthfully admitted, “but I understand.”

“I don’t like it either, Budman, but at least I’ll get to see you before we leave for Austin.” Trent threw the pillow to the side and scratched his stomach. “Shit! Forgot to clean up. Hang on a sec.” 

Blaine did his own cleaning up while Trent was off camera. While listening to his boyfriend mutter about doing laundry AGAIN, he wiped down his torso and under his arms before discarding the towel on the floor. Digging in the pile of clean clothes he had yet to fold and put up, he found his old high school baseball jersey and slipped it on. By the time he was finished and had his earbuds back in, Trent was just coming into view wearing jeans and a very familiar t-shirt.

“Umm, last time I checked that shirt you’re wearing is mine,” he pointed out. 

Trent patted the t-shirt featuring the movie poster for _X-Men: The Last Stand._ “Yep, it sure is.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “You know I blamed Angel when that shirt went missing. The obsession she has for all things Hugh Jackman, I just knew it was her that took it.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” Trent took a moment to rip the sheets off his bed. “Stole this baby right out of your suitcase the day you were packing for college.”

“Because?”

Trent grabbed up the pillow he’d discarded, sniffed it and, with a disgusted grimace, removed its soiled covering. He mumbled something while tossing the pillowcase on the pile of sheets.

“What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you.”

Trent plopped down on the now bare mattress and glared at him via webcam. “ ‘Cause it smelled like you! Okay?! It smelled like you and I needed . . . .” 

Blaine reached out and touched the screen when his boyfriend went silent. “It’s okay, babe. I get it.” He did understand because tucked under his pillow at that very moment was the t-shirt Trent had been wearing the day his boyfriend claimed his ass. It was a size too small but that didn’t matter. On the nights when he just couldn’t deal with being away from home, he’d slip it on and look through the treasured photo album Trent had given to him before he left for college.

Clearing his throat, he drew Trent’s attention to the calendar he had tacked on the wall behind him. “What day are you and your dad leaving?”

Trent tucked the chain he wore and its locket inside the neckline of the _appropriated_ t-shirt. “We’re heading out late Wednesday evening. What about you? When will you arrive home?”

He consulted his calendar. “My last test is Tuesday afternoon. I’m leaving as soon as I finish. Depending on holiday traffic I should be pulling in the driveway around six or seven. You’ll be there?”

“Hell, yes! Ready and waiting with ass prepped for action!” 

Blaine laughed, his good mood reestablished. Collecting his laptop, he moved to his bed and settled in. “What’s up with your dad? I see Kenney’s scheduled to compete in the Ford 400.* What are his chances at winning?”

 

+++++++

 

He was at the RaceTrac station outside of Hammond filling his truck up with gas when the song, ‘Home’ by Daughtry began playing. Digging out his cell, he hit accept. “Hello?”

“Blaine?” 

It was his mother.

“Hey, Mom, I’m in Hammond. Should be home in less than hour.”

“Oh, thank God!”

He replaced the gas cap and slapped shut the door to his gas tank while glancing around the busy fueling station. It was packed with holiday travelers. “Is something wrong?”

“Your dad’s stuck in a meeting at work and can’t make it to the airport to pick up your Aunt Jen and Uncle Chuck. Can you drive straight through to Baton Rouge and pick them up? Their flight arrives at 7:30 pm. I’d go myself but Elizabeth Anne is sick with an upset stomach, and I don’t want to leave her.”

Shit! He yanked off his sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. There went his reunion with Trent. Hell, even if his aunt and uncle’s flight was on time and they got back on the road without delay, it would be almost 10 pm before he dropped them off where they were staying at his grandparents’ house.

“Gramps can’t get ‘em?”

He heard his mother’s disappointed sigh and knew exactly what she was going to say next.

“Blaine, you know your grandfather doesn’t see well at night.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he answered. He climbed into his truck and slammed shut the driver’s door with a little bit more force than necessary. “Give me the gate info.”

“See? This is why I always say you’re my favorite child.” His mother laughed.

With a wry grin, he slipped on his shades. “Yeah, and next time Angel does all the grocery shopping, _she’ll_ be your favorite child.”

More laughter came over the phone before his mother imparted the gate info and ended the call. He immediately dialed Trent’s number and was not surprised when his boyfriend picked up immediately.

“Budman! Where are ya? My ass is tingling with anticipation!”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Tingling, huh?” Just hearing Trent’s voice put him in a better frame of mind. 

“Yep! I bought this new lube. Suppose to . . . wait a sec, let me get the box.” 

A horn honked behind him. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the driver of an SUV motioning for him to move on. “Hang on, Trent.” Quickly cranking the engine, he moved his truck away from the individual filling stations and into a parking space nearer the attached food mart. “Okay, what were you saying about the lube?”

“Says here . . .

His boyfriend’s voice lowered to a suggestive whisper, and Blaine dug teeth into his bottom lip at the familiar sound of it and the immediate response it evoked below his belt.

“. . . it magnifies your sensual connection with a captivating sensation guaranteed to fire up the passion.” Trent ruined his attempt at sounding sexy by snorting with laughter. “Guess that means we’re gonna to set the sheets on fire the minute your monster dick shoves its way inside my ass.”

Blaine frowned. He knew Trent was absolutely going to hate what he was about to say. “Speaking of those sheets . . . .

 

+++++++

 

After throwing his truck into park and cutting the engine, Blaine wearily rested his head back and closed his eyes. It was nearly midnight and he felt like shit. His morning had started at 4am with some last minute cramming for the two finals he’d had to take before leaving school. The usual five hour drive home had lasted nearly six and a half because of the heavy holiday traffic. And just when home _and Trent_ were basically within his grasp, his mother had called and saddled him with the task of picking up his dad’s youngest sister and her husband from the airport. His day was officially fucked.

Of course, the flight was delayed. The return home traffic was shit. He aunt and uncle would not shut up the entire trip back to Walker and leave him to his thoughts of Trent and all the fucking they planned to cram into the next 24 hours. And then, to top things off, his grandparents insisted he stay for supper once he arrived at their house, and NO ONE, well no one who values their life, says no to his Nana when it comes to food and feeding starving students. 

He looked down at his phone. The last text from Trent had come just before he’d been lassoed into helping his grandfather and uncle set up the extra air mattresses his cousins would be sleeping on once they arrived. It seemed the entire Matthews family was coming for Thanksgiving. Not only had Aunt Jen and Uncle Chuck flown in from New York for the holiday but his dad’s older sister, Aunt Sherry and her terrifying hoard of kids, were driving up from Florida. It was definitely going to be the Holiday from Hell.

Shaking his head, he reread his messages. 

_R U on your way yet?_

_no. got 2 help gramps w/something._

_how long_

_an hour. maybe?_

_FUCK_ :-(

_Yeah_

_heading to bed. call me when you get home_

_k_

_luv u_

Moisture suddenly blurred his vision and, with a muted sob, he dropped his phone and shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes. No doubt it was the exhaustion that had his eyes watering.

Grabbing his backpack and duffle bag, he climbed out of his truck and stumbled his way inside the house. He stopped first in the utility room and was digging out the dirty clothes he’d brought home from school when a hand latched onto his shoulder and basically scared the fucking shit out of him.

“What the . . . ?!”

“Quiet! It’s just me.”

Clutching his treasured boyfriend, albeit stolen, t-shirt to his chest, Blaine looked up into the face of his dad. “Give me a heart attack, why don’t ya, Dad?!”

Sean grinned before pulling him into a hug that threatened to crack his ribcage. “Glad to see you finally made it home.”

“Yeah, finally.” He tucked the crumpled t-shirt he planned to wear to bed in his back jeans pocket. “Would have been home earlier but Nana--”

“--made you eat supper before you left. Am I right?” His dad followed him into the darkened kitchen. 

Blaine grabbed a water from the fridge and drank nearly the whole thing before answering. “Yep. You got it.” He was pulled into another hug.

“Thanks for picking up Jen and Chuck. My boss forced a meeting with a new client on me, and I couldn’t get away in time to meet their flight.”

Breaking free from his dad’s hold, Blaine tossed the empty water bottle into the recycling bin for plastics. “No problem.”

Sean stopped him from leaving the room by grabbing him by the arm. “Yeah, it was a problem. Kept you from meeting up with Trent.”

Blaine closed his eyes and sighed with genuine exhaustion. He was beyond ready to hit the sheets and sleep for at least a week. “It’s okay. Trent understood.”

His dad followed him down the hall to his bedroom. “I’ll see him tomorrow. It’s cool.” Stopping at the entrance to his room, he stared in drowsy confusion at the closed door. Why was his bedroom door closed? Why was his dad standing beside him with a stupid grin on his face whispering God knows what?

“ . . . found in the swing. . . . . Your mom . . . put to bed. I’m not happy about it but I understand . . . just behave yourselves. No . . . .”

His hand was blocked before it could connect with the doorknob. 

“Did you hear me, Blaine?”

“Huh?” His brain was just about down for the count. He wearily blinked up at his dad “What?”

“Sleeping only, okay? Nothing else. Your Aunt Sherry and the kids will be arriving early in the morning. I don’t want hear any complaints about you two scarring the little ones because they witnessed . . . .” his dad’s fingers made the familiar air quotes . . . . “inappropriate behavior.”

With a sweeping arm gesture from his dad, he was finally allowed to enter his bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. Sleep only. No funny business. Don’t scar for life the little beasts from hell. Got it. Good night.” He shut the door in his dad’s face. Dumping his backpack on the floor, he proceeded to strip down to his briefs before pulling on Trent’s t-shirt. He thought about going to the bathroom to take a piss and maybe brush his teeth but the bed was calling his name and he headed straight for it. 

Climbing in, his eyes shuttering closed with weariness, he thumped on the pile of pillows his mom was obviously storing on his bed during his absence. Thank God they weren’t his pillows. These suckers were hard as hell. And who in their right mind would sleep with pillows that hard? Hell, not only hard but heavy. He shoved and shoved but they wouldn’t move. Well, fuck. Throwing an arm over the nearest one, he tucked in close and surrendered to Morpheus’ beckoning embrace. He’d deal with the damn pillows in the morning.

 

+++++++

 

Blaine smiled at the feel of wet suction applying itself to his dick. God, he loved being sucked off. Loved the way it felt when his body went stiff all over as he shot his load down . . . .

“Fuck that’s good.” Familiar growling caught his attention a second before his ass welcomed a misbehaving finger inside it. He drowsily encouraged the finger to bring along its mates. “You can do better than that.”

A finger poked him in the nose.

“Wrong end, amigo. Little lower, please?”

The finger poked him again, harder.

“My nose ain’t where I want that finger. Shove it up my . . . .”

“Cousin Blaine, do you have a dog under there?”

Snapping open his eyes, he stared in horror at the two faces peeking at him over the edge of his mattress. “Fred? George?” Yes, his aunt had a fascination for the Harry Potter books. “What are you . . . oh fuck!”

Teeth nipped at his balls and he almost levitated off the bed. Holding up the covers, he nearly choked to death at the sight of his grinning boyfriend licking clean his semen-coated lips. “What the hell? How did you . . . .”

A hand tugged on his arm, reminding him of the wide-eyed six year old twins watching him being sucked off by his hidden-from-sight boyfriend.

“Cousin Blaine, you owe the swear jar 75 cents.”

“Huh?” Grabbing whatever pillows he could reach, he attempted to camouflage the shape of Trent’s body. “75 cents?” He watched his cousin, Fred, exit the room, wearing what suspiciously looked like his autographed Roger Clemens, New York Yankees baseball cap.

George poked him in the thigh. “One quarter for each bad word. And you just said three.” 

“Would you quit that?” Even though his words could be applied to his cousin, they were actually directed at the wiggling fingers still firmly seated in his ass.

THE EYES and THE WOBBLING CHIN directed at him had him jerking up his underwear and scrambling out of bed in search of his discarded jeans. He dug through his pockets for any spare change. Finding none, he yanked out his wallet and handed over a dollar bill. “Keep the change. I’m sure I’ll violate the ‘no swear words’ rule sooner than later.”

Grinning from ear to ear, George ran from the room, clutching his bounty as if it were a hundred dollar bill instead of just a single. “Fred! Fred! We fooled ‘im!”

Blaine locked the door behind his scheming entrepreneur cousin and flew back to bed. His clothes were dispatched in record time and his ass reclaimed with lube slick fingers.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

“That’s another 75 cents, Budman.”

He glared at his boyfriend for all of five seconds before violently taking possession of his grinning mouth. “Kiss me. God, yes, kiss me, fuck me. Trent! Please!”

He was beyond starved for oxygen by the time the two of them broke apart. He lay naked on his bed with four of Trent’s five fingers shoved up his ass while they both gasped for air.

Trent was first to recover. He handed him a condom. “Mr. Fantastic is ready and waiting. Ass up, lover.”

His hands were shaking so bad, he dropped the condom twice before ripping open the foil packet and properly applying the rubber to Trent’s dick. Scrambling to his hands and knees, he looked back over his shoulder and asked, “When did you get here? Not that I’m complaining. God, it was heaven waking up with your mouth on my dick.” 

Trent positioned himself behind him but took a moment to lay a line of kisses up his spine. “I came by late last night. Your mom let me in. Said I could sleep in your room.”

Suddenly his dad’s words from last night made sense. His parents had obviously discovered Trent waiting for him on their porch swing and had invited him in, allowing him to spend the night in his bed.

God, he loved his mom and dad.

Mr. Fantastic was breaching his back door when he remembered the rest of last night’s conversation. 

“Wait! Wait! Trent . . . .”

A knock on the door came at the same time he was warning his boyfriend to stop.

“Boys! Blaine! This locked door better not mean what I think it means.”

Blaine shoved Trent off the bed and into the adjoining bathroom. “Hang on, Dad! We were about to take a shower.” Grabbing up his underwear, he shimmied into them while unlocking the door. His dad stood there frowning at him.

“Better damn well be showering one at a time.” Sean pointed a finger at him. “No fucking while your cousins are here, remember? You agreed.”

“Yeah, yeah, Dad. I remember.” He pointed toward the bathroom and breathed a silent sigh of relief when he heard the sound of the running shower. “Trent’s taking a shower right now.”

Sean looked around the room. “Okay. Come out to the kitchen when you’re finished. Mom’s cooking breakfast for everyone.” His dad went to the door. “And no locked doors. Hear me?”

Blaine nodded. He watched his dad walk down the hall to the kitchen. Laughter echoed back to him. His Aunt Sherry was obviously regaling his mom with a story about the twin brats.

Slipping inside the bathroom, he locked the door that led to Angel’s room. With slight hesitation, he locked the door that led to his bedroom. Certainly his dad didn’t mean he should just let anyone walk in on him or Trent showering.

“Babe, I hate to tell you but I made a deal with Dad. No fucking while the . . . .” 

A suds-covered hand grabbed him by the arm and yanked him inside the shower. Before he could open his mouth, Trent was on his knees in front of him, jerking down his underwear. 

“This ain’t fucking,” his boyfriend informed him just before he swallowed his dick to the root.

“Oh hell!” Blaine banged his head repeatedly against the wall and moaned when minutes later the heat of his imminent orgasm flooded his groin. “Trent! We can’t . . . you can’t . . . .”

Frantic knocking from the direction of Angel’s room distracted him enough that he was able to push Trent off his dick. Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist, he stumbled to the door and unlocked it. His sister jerked him into her room and forced him to sit on her bed. 

“Dad’s coming,” she hissed. 

His sister plopped down on her bed and started chattering about some boy named Cole. She was describing his drool worthy looks when their dad poked his head in the room. He stared at them a few minutes before walking back down the hall. Angel kicked him in the side when he made a move to return to the bathroom.

“Not yet,” she whispered. “He’s coming back. Mark my words.”

His sister was right on the money. Within five minutes his dad was back, this time leaning against the door frame, frowning.

“Where’s Trent?”

Before an answer could be given by either of them, the person in question stepped into the room pulling on a . . . . Blaine narrowed his eyes . . . was that his _Spider Man 3_ t-shirt? “Here I am,” his boyfriend announced once his head cleared the neckline of _another_ appropriated t-shirt. “What’s up? Is breakfast ready? I smell waffles. Is Mrs. A making waffles?”

Blaine didn’t wait to hear his dad’s reply. He rushed into the bathroom and locked both doors. Stripping off his towel and shoving one end of it into his mouth, he took himself in hand and finished the job Trent had started in the shower. His knees buckled the moment his orgasm hit him.

“Jesus Christ! Holy fucking shit!”

Climbing in the shower on unsteady legs, he turned on the hot water and rinsed the splashes of spunk off his body. A moment later he held his head under the water and began to laugh hysterically. Who would have guessed Fate was a damn cockblock?

Could his life get any better?

 

+++++++

 

He pulled Trent into his arms the second his boyfriend came through the door of the treehouse. Stripping off first his shirt and then Trent’s, he circled his boyfriend’s waist with his arms and fiercely hugged him. The both of them sat there, half naked, in the doorway of their treehouse gazing at the stars peeking through the leaves of the giant oak. 

“Sorry about all this, babe. Not exactly what I had planned for our one day together.

Trent twisted around and kissed him hard on the mouth before resuming his original position. “It’s okay, Budman.” His boyfriend moaned when both his pecs were palmed and squeezed. “Unfortunately, life ain’t always a bowl of cherries.”

Blaine couldn’t agree more. It seemed every time they had attempted to get together for some serious _fuck me until I’m blind and deaf_ activity, someone had shown up unexpectedly and shut them down. Everyone from his parents to his aunt and cousins, hell even his baby sister had conspired with Fate against them. And now, now he had less than an hour before Trent had to leave with his dad for their trip to Austin, Texas.

He lowered his head and rested his chin on Trent’s shoulder. “I love you so much.”

A hand gently cupped the back of his neck and gripped tight. “Back at ya, Budman.”

Suddenly overwhelmed with frustration and heart-ripping disappointment, he wrestled Trent further inside and laid him down on the floor. “Fuck it all to hell. I need you inside me now.” Both he and Trent were struggling with the zipper of his boyfriend’s jeans when an irritatingly familiar voice piped up.

“Fifty cents for the swear jar, Cousin Blaine.”

 

To be continued . . . .

 

*Ford 400 – Last NASCAR race of the 2007 season

**Author's Note:**

> This is an absolutely new chapter, as in never posted to the net before, never included in the original series.
> 
> Title from this quote: “I try not to make plans. God always laughs at your plans. I’m going to keep the door open, and keep the page blank, and see what gets painted upon it.” ― Tom Hiddleston


End file.
